Not Alone Anymore
by JassyIsSherlocked
Summary: Avis is back, this time she is juggling looking after a nine year old, her dad, friendships, cases and her relationship with Sherlock, it's a bit much. Then, when she finds out that there are more secrets of her past to deal with, including a brutal killer who she had gladly forgotten about, a lot more is added to her plate, and she isn't hungry. SHxOC, sequel to TDatM
1. Prologue

Prologue -

I still wasn't completely fixed and it had been three months since _it _happened. We all referred to _it _as _it _now, or _the thing_...

Some days were good, others... not so good. A lot depended on the weather, the temperature and the people I spoke to, I found out.

For instance, if I was talking to this annoying man who worked for Scotland Yard called Anderson then I would feel like screaming, but if I was talking to someone like John or Nancy, I would be slightly alright. Sherlock was aggravating and annoying most of the time, but most of the time I was alright with talking to him. I guess I had sort of gotten used to him.

Sherlock grabbed my hand and yanked me forwards from a jog into a run. Clearly, I wasn't running fast enough for him.

"Go left." he ordered, pointing to an alley way, I bit my lip gently but nodded my head and ran off down the alley way, knowing that it couldn't be _that _dangerous otherwise Sherlock wouldn't have let me go alone.

As I ran, my feet slipped in puddles and the water bounced up and splashed my legs but i didn't really mind. I wasn't focussing on that.

There was a man at the end of the alley, his back facing me. I noticed Sherlock and John's shadows on the wall across from him.

I kept close to the edge of the alley so he didn't notice me and I watched as they crept forward a bit, I did the same to block him in. Before we knew it, we had caught an absolutely stupid criminal who had no common sense at all.

After that had finished, we went back home, I said goodnight to them both and walked into my flat, they walked into theirs.

"Avis?" I heard Nancy's voice. They still hadn't found anywhere she could stay. It was like every trace of her family had disappeared.

"Yeah, it's just me. Don't worry." I told her. She was sitting on the sofa watching tv, I shouldn't have left her alone but I didn't really know what else to do. It was late and I knew practically nobody who would babysit. I would have been a horrible mother.

I trudged into the kitchen and made a coffee for myself and a hot chocolate for Nancy, then I grabbed a biscuit tin and carried it all to the sofa.

According to the clock on the wall, it was eleven o'clock.

"You'd better go to bed in a bit." I told her gently, she nodded her head as she munched on a digestive biscuit, her eyes glued to the tv screen.

After ten minutes were up, the film finished and she was done with the biscuits and chocolate so she got ready for bed then went to sleep.

It seemed that in the past three months, I had aged to about thirty nine.

I had magically gained and almost ten year old 'daughter', I was worrying a lot more than usual and I had actually forgotten my keys five times in the past week, switched to radio two, wearing **slippers**, forgetting people's names. I felt like I was too young to be old.

After a while of sighing and sitting amongst a pile of cushions, feeling very miserable I fell asleep.

Guess what time I woke up? Six thirty. Surely that isn't normal for any twenty year old.

I started eating my breakfast and writing out a CV, what can you even put on a CV when you are like me? _Oh yeah, I have a degree in murdering people. You need a hitman-woman? I'm your gal. _

The future was looking quite bleak.

Here was another awkward thing, I was twenty and Nancy was nine, we looked quite alike so people would either think I was her sister or I looked so old that people wouldn't even bat an eyelid about me being her mother or something. I needed more sleep.

Nancy woke up at about nine o'clock, had some shredded wheat then she got dressed and I started thinking about Quincy and mum and Felicity. Everyone. All over again.

It happened quite a lot and I couldn't stand it. I fiddled with my reading glasses- oh yeah, something else that had changed. Apparently, according to the woman in specsavers, I needed glasses. Not permanently, but still...

That was basically everything that had happened within three months. It was October now, the heat wave had passed about a day after _it _happened, I found that annoying. Everything was shitty so the weather became shitty as well.

Of course, October is cold in England and a lot of other places too, that stands to reason.

My head just kept on rambling about everything, exactly like this. One minute I'm talking about the weather and the next it's about my head. It was probably a side-effect of everything. But I thought that pain would be the side-effect of loss, not madness. Clearly not.

Some days I would wait for some people to come and take me away to an asylum, if they even did that anymore. I guess they just pumped you full of drugs or something like that that ruins you completely as well as fixing you.

Nancy came out of my bedroom that she was now using, dressed in a dress, a pair of woolen tights, a cardigan and some plain black shoes.

"Still no phone call?" she asked, I sighed and shook my head sadly.

She would ask this all the time, if someone had phoned saying that they had found someone who could look after her. As much as we got on, we both couldn't wait for this phone call to come but for different reasons.

Nancy was needing someone who she actually properly knew her, who would actually be able to take her swimming because they aren't afraid of big water-filled places, someone who was actually normal, and I just cared about her, I needed to know that she was safe staying with someone who wouldn't have an emotional breakdown unpredictably, someone who wasn't away often solving crimes with two men who lived upstairs, someone with friends, someone could actually get her friends. You know?

I watched as she sat down at the table, then I saved the document I was working no and turned my laptop off, then put my glasses onto the table.

"Do you want to go somewhere today?" I asked her, she shrugged her shoulders.

"Whe-re?" she sang.

"I dunno, you choose."

"The park?"

"Which one?"

"Dunno, you choose." she smiled a bit.

So we went to a park, the one that Sherlock had taken me to that night, just because it was closest.

I sat on a bench in the freezing cold and watched as Nancy played on the swings and the slide.

Somebody sat down next to me but I didn't really pay attention.

"Avis?"

I knew the voice, I shot a smile at Nancy then turned around to look at the man, my eyebrows furrowed together.

He was probably in his early fifties, he had grey hair chopped short and gelled a bit, he was a bit on tubby side but that may have just been his thick coat.

"How do you know-"

"You don't remember me." he said, sighing a bit. "I don't blame you, I barely knew it was you." he said, smiling kindly.

I knew that smile almost more than I knew the voice.

"Dad?"

"You didn't reply to my letter." he said sadly.

"Yeah, a-about that, sorry, I hadn't really been in the mood." everything was awkward. Nancy bounced over after a while, looking a bit worried.

"Nancy, this is my dad." I told her, breathing out slightly, I could see my breath it was so cold. "Dad, this is Nancy, she's a friend's sister wh- who I-I'm looking after." I said quietly, a lump appearing in my throat.

Dad said hello to Nancy and everything, then we all walked back to my flat.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see him, I really did, but when I saw him I thought of mum and I didn't need to be reminded of that at the time.

When we got back, let's just say dad and Sherlock clashed quite a bit.

**A/N, I'm back quicker than expected, yay I guess!**

**Just a quick thank you to KaiFukugawa for helping me with the title of this.**

**Please tell me what you think, are you pleased to see Avis again? :D**


	2. Chapter 1 - Awkward

Chapter one - awkward.

"The thing about your mother, Avis, she was very... Unpredictable." my dad said, taking a long sip from his cup of tea.

I had taken Nancy up to 221b for John and Sherlock to look after while I had a heart-to-heart chat with my dad about my late mother.

"You don't say." I said, rolling my eyes at him. Also sipping my tea. "Why did you contact me after," I counted the time out in my head. One... Two... Three...Four... "Thirteen years." finally I came up with the answer.

"She or Thomas would have killed me, Avis." he explained. Had I not been forced into killing others so that I could save myself, I would have thought what he said was unreasonable.

I had no tea left and there was only one custard cream in the biscuit tin in front of us, and they weren't dad's favourite so I decided not to eat it, despite yearning for it to settle in my stomach. Lovely.

After an awkward silence, there was a crashing sound coming from upstairs and then shouting. I winced as my dad asked me about what was happening.

"Not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'd better go and... Mind if I go and check if everything is ok?" now I was standing by the door, ready to go upstairs regardless of what my dad said, luckily he let me.

I smiled at him and then raced up the stairs and through the door to see Nancy sitting amongst a pile of books on the floor, playing with Sherlock's skull. Not his actual skull, his other skull?

"What's going on?" I asked as I watched John picking up all of the books.

Sherlock was shouting about the books, Nancy and various other things like his skull, and cases, but he stopped to explain to me.

"Nancy knocked all of the books off the shelf." he grunted.

I sighed heavily as I crouched down to help John with the books.

There was absolutely no friendship between Nancy and Sherlock whatsoever. She would do whatever she could to annoy him because she found it funny. One time, when he wasn't looking she managed to put dirt in his coffee (god knows how)

Nancy was now sticking her thumb into the eye hole in the skull and laughing at Sherlock's mortified expression. He immediately jumped up, pushed past John and I, then tried to take the skull from Nancy but she was too small and fast and managed to wriggle away from his grasp in time.

"Stop it!" he ordered.

"No."

He frowned at her. "Give it to me, now."

"Or what?"she challenged, giggling slightly.

"Or I'll-"

"-Nancy, give Sherlock his skull back." I cut in just before he said something too awful.

I slotted the last book onto the shelf, got up, grabbed the skull from her hands ignoring the 'hmph' noise that came from her mouth, then I gave the skull back to Sherlock who smiled at me, I wasn't sure if the smile was genuine, but I'd take whatever I could get.

I looked towards Nancy who had her arms crossed over her chest and her bottom lip out. "Right, now, apologise to Sherlock." I said.

"But!-"

"Say you're sorry-"

"I'm not though-"

"Say it anyway." the look on the nine year old's face told me that I had won our little war.

"Sorry for stealing your skull..." she muttered unhappily. I spun around to face Sherlock and smiled at him sweetly.

"Your turn!"

"But I didn't even do anything wrong!"

"Sherlock, you were shouting at a nine year old girl for knocking some books off of the bloody shelf." John said, I looked over at him and smiled to thank him for his point.

Then dad decided to barge in.

He looked around the flat in horror. I guessed he thought it was messy or something, I didn't, I thought it was cozy.

"Urm, is everything okay?" he asked. Dad pointed to Sherlock. "Wait, is he your? Are you two...?"

I suddenly realised that Sherlock and I were in quite close proximity of eachother. I quickly snapped away.

"Yes, everything is fine now and no, Sherlock and I aren't together." I squeaked possibly a bit too quickly. "Right, dad, these are my friends Sherlock and John." my dad shook John's hand and went to shake Sherlock's, but he ignored him.

"I'm Paul..."

I nudged Sherlock with my elbow. "Shake his hand, Sherlock," I hissed quietly, then I quickly added, "and I swear to god, if you deduce him-"

But it was too late.

My dad used to always seem calm and lovely, he was, but when someone offended him in some way, he changed drastically. It had happened with him and mum quite a few times. The shouting was still burned into my mind like a painful reminder or them both.

"You are divorced, you were probably having an affair with the woman who you are now married to. Never exactly a great father figure, though you try to be. At least you were better than your ex-wife. You now work in a... Restaurant, clearly you've gotten your act together bit better now than it was before. Your wife is a bit younger than you, you have one son, a dog and you seem quite happy with your life, but I suppose you can't change your old ways completely, you are having an affair with a waitress I assume? Who works with you."

The look on my dad's face told me that he wasn't impressed in the slightest. I bit my lip gently.

"Da-"

"How did you know that?" he asked Sherlock, his face red from anger. I caught Sherlock smirking out of the corner of my eye.

"You divorced Maria because of her problems, it's clear that you can't put up with any sort of emotional stress whatsoever, and I knew you were having an affair with your new wife because Maria was obviously not satisfying you at all, she was mad after all. I can tell you work in a restaurant due to the slight stains on your shirt, also there is a business cars on your inside pocket that I noticed when you came in, it says the name of the place. I knew your new wife would be younger than you because no man like you would want to have an affair with someone their own age. I noticed the dog hairs on your trousers and shoes, also you have a fairly recent picture of a child also on the inside of your coat, and I know that you are having an affair with someone at work because your-"

"I'm not having an affair with anyone!" my dad shouted. I winced.

"Dad, please, stop it-"

"No, Avis, I will not stop it!" he shouted at me and I found myself stepping back slowly. Sherlock must have either noticed my fear or just wanted to annoy dad more, anyway, he reaches out for me, I held his hand gently. "GET OFF MY DAUGHTER."

I quickly let go on Sherlock's hand.

"Nancy, I think you should go downstairs..." I heard John say, I nodded my head in agreement. She scurried away quickly.

"Listen to me, you can't tell me about myself you little piece of sh-"

"DAD!"

He frowned at me and sighed a bit.

"Look, just stay away from Avis. If you lay a finger on her, you will regret it." at this point, I felt like banging my head on a brick wall. "Goodbye Avis, please phone me soon." dad said, hugging me. I awkwardly hugged him back, nodded and he left.

"That went well..." I said aloud.


	3. Chapter 2 - A phone call

Chapter 2 - A phone call.

"_When you're surrounded by all these people, it can be lonelier than when you're by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone.__"_

_~ Fiona Apple_

We were all sitting in silence after that occurrence, and then reality kicked in. I stood up and looked down at Sherlock who was sitting, I felt taller than him for once.

"Are you out of your _mind_?" I said quietly, but angrily at the same time, just to be listened to really. I was sick of people ignoring me, I hated the so much. All I really needed was someone who I could actually talk to. Okay, I had John, but I didn't like just bombarding one person with all of my problems, even if he was fine with it.

Over the past three months, everyone had gotten quite a bit closer, and when I say that I really mean it, we'll, apart from Nancy and Sherlock, but that was 'irrelevant' as Sherlock would say occasionally about random things that didn't matter to him.

Sherlock didn't reply to me, I sighed a bit.

"I told you not to, now he hates you-"

"You can't be sure that your dad _hates _him, Ave." John said, clearly trying to comfort me a bit, but it didn't really help.

"Sure, I was seven when I last saw him," I gulped slightly. "But I still know that he judges people quickly, and everyone judges Sherlock quickly so..." I groaned, collapsing half onto the sofa and half on me accidentally landed on Sherlock's slightly bony leg.

I shuffled around before sitting fully on the couch then leaning my head against the back of it.

I had always been good at common sense and body language and things like that. I couldn't remember if it was inherited or just something that I'd learnt from all of those years spent murdering innocent people; I had a vague idea that it was the second one.

"Look, I had better go and see if Nancy is okay, I'll see you two later."

Then I walked out of the door, something that would have been thought of as rude, had they not known me.

Nancy was sitting at the table, straight into a pot of yogurt, a look of confusion covering her face as she plunged a spoon into the dairy products when I got back into my flat.

"Hey Nance," I said, putting on a fake smile as I shut the door behind me and walked towards her. "What's wrong?" suddenly, I noticed the slightly sad look on her face.

"Lestrade phoned." she said, eating her yogurt. I frowned a bit before realising what that call could of meant.

He either couldn't find anyone to look after her, or he did...

"Oh, what did he say?" sitting down across from her, I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

"He asked me to get you to phone him back." her bottom lip was trembling slightly. "What if they're dead?" she was crying now, I got down and walked over to her, holding her awkwardly as she cried quietly.

"T-then you'll have to stay with me." but I was seriously doubting how stable everyone thought I was, or pretended I was.

After a while, Nancy decided she felt tired and cold so she curled up on the sofa with some blankets, my sitting by her feet, desperately waiting for her to fall asleep so that I could phone Lestrade.

When she finally dropped off, I grabbed my phone and dialled his number.

"Hello?" he asked into his phone.

"Um, hi, it's Avis here..."

"Oh, Avis. Great news."

_Okay, that ruled out the 'all of Nancy's family is dead' thought._

It was a waste of my voiced, but I still asked it. "What is it?" I tried to ignore the feeling in my throat.

"We found Nancy's father. He seems like a friendly bloke really." he said, I nodded but then realised people couldn't hear nods.

"That's great, when is picking her up?"

"In a few days, he said he needed to get his house ready first."

We ended up chatting about Nancy and her dad, Peter then we both hung up and that was when I started feeling even worse.

By even worse, I mean on the verge of kicking walls worse. So in the end I decided to make myself some green tea and sit down, watching Nancy snooze.

She looked a lot more happy when she slept. I couldn't believe someone so young could face so much grief in their life. I couldn't face it, i just pretended to, and I was almost twenty one.

My mind flickered onto my dad and how he had despised Sherlock so much, which wasn't really a surprise but still...

Then my brain went onto Sherlock and I felt slightly confused. I shut my eyes as I sipped the burning hot tea, somehow I found some relief in it scalding my tongue and entire mouth and throat.

Why were we so close? Surely that was unnatural for the both of us, to be attached to someone. In all fairness, I was more attached to him than he was to me.

He made me feel so different, and it almost angered me, how much I craved for him to kiss me, how much I wanted him.

I just wanted him and whether the feelings were genuine or simply lust filled fantasies still confused me.

I took another sip, punishing myself for thinking about him like that.

What would he think? If he could reach my mind? Well, he practically could, only it wasn't mind reading.

Okay, so what would everyone think if they could read my mind? By everyone, I meant everyone I knew.

I quickly came to the answer: they would be disgusted. Especially my dad.

I didn't get the world, you were supposed to be free to do, think or say practically whatever you wanted yet you couldn't think someone in a way thought of as sexual without people thinking that you were gross.

**Please review and tell me what you thought. I am currently trying to conquer writer's block.**


	4. Chapter 3 - Killian Welsh

**Chapter three - Killian Welsh.**

**Avis's outfit (remove the spaces) www .polyvore avis/ set? id= 957 30 860**

Three days had passed from when I had received the news from Lestrade, and not much had been going on since.

Sherlock had no cases which resulted in John's blog post ideas being a little flat, I had been on the restless search for a job and failing miserably.

John had said that if Sherlock didn't want to lend me any of his money, he would give me some, but I had declined his offer. I didn't want to steal their money, I was an adult, I needed to be a lot more responsible for myself and my actions, I told him that.

So I foolishly left Nancy with John and Sherlock for the afternoon while I went off job hunting again.

There weren't many places looking for extra staff, only bars and cafés really. I wasn't great at cooking, so that was crossed off the list, however, pubs brought back bad memories for me.

I wrapped my arms around my cold body as I strolled past many shops, restaurants, bars and hotels, then, just as I was about to hail a cab and get home, I saw a tattered looking vintage shop just at the end of the road, a large sign stood outside it reading 'HELP WANTED', so I went to have a look.

The inside of the shop did not surprise me in the slightest. Everything was so cluttered and random, you could barely move around.

Men's, women's and children's clothing had all been hung up on rails carelessly, rugs, tables, chairs and other furniture was all stacked against the walls, books everywhere, impaired shoes covered in a mess of scarves, hats, newspapers, maps, sunglasses, socks, almost everything.

I couldn't see anyone in there, I couldn't move around either, so I cleared my throat.

"Hello?" my voice echoed around the shop, sounding foreign to my own ears.

There was a long silence before I heard some awkward shuffling, then a man emerged from behind a stack of books.

He had blond hair that was gelled back ever so slightly, a fair amount of stubble covering the bottom part of his face, his eyes were very piercing, almost like Sherlock's, however, this man's eyes were a lot softer, the colour of the bottom of the sea, when Sherlock's were more like ice.

"Um, hi," I said, smiling a little more than what was considered 'normal', just to make myself seem a little brighter and happier in the hopes of getting the job. "I saw you were looking for staff." I said, he immediately grinned and nodded his head.

It was clear that I was the first one to even come near the place, and he was happy about it.

"Oh! Great! Yes, I'm Killian Welsh, I run this place - not that there's much running to do." he said, actually sounding happier than I did. Maybe it was because his happiness was genuine whereas mine was a lie.

"Nice to meet you, Killian." I was quite shocked by his name, it sounded a little creepy, one might even call it a sign.

He shook my hand and interviewed me between a gigantic pile of Beano comics, I told him as much about myself as I could manage to, then realised how desperate he must of been when he hired me.

"Can you start tomorrow at nine?" he asked.

For some reason, his politeness was really getting to me.

"Yeah, sure. Thank you, Killian."

"No, _thank you, _Avis." we briefly smiled at each other before I shuffled back out of the overcrowded shop and into the busy street.

_Killian, eh, Ave? _I thought to myself as I sauntered down the highstreet slowly.

Despite his annoying amount of overpowering kindness, he seemed alright. I could get used to a boss like him.

I got the bus back, something that was quite unusual for me seeing as I didn't like being around too many people, however, when I searched my bag I found out that I was two quid short of a taxi fare, and busses were cheaper, they also took less time than walking.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, scaring me slightly. I was too uptight.

**Avis, come quickly. - SH**

_Oh god. _

**What is is now, Sherlock? X Ave**

It took him less than ten seconds to reply.

** .now. - SH**

**On my way... X Ave**

Knowing Sherlock, it would probably be something stupid that he wanted.

**A/N Feedback or quotes and song lyrics that relate to silly Avis would be lovely if possible. :) **


	5. Chapter 4 - Broken Promises

**Chapter four - Broken promises. **

_Middle of nowhere_

_Finally you can breathe_

_Nobody knows your name_

_It's easier_

_Shut your eyes tightly_

_Clench your fists 'til they almost bleed_

_Cautiously, lightly_

_Gently expose what's underneath_

_And all you feel now_

_Is the scarlet in the day_

_Even if it's real_

_You can't stay..._

_~ Scarlet by Brooke Fraser._

**Sherlock**

The day Sherlock deduced that another man had had a lasting effect on Avis was the day that he decided he didn't like Avis in the slightest.

"Hey guys, guess what!" she almost squealed as she waltzed into 221b like she owned it.

"You got the job, and you met a man by the looks of it." he deduced effortlessly with a slight smirk on his face, until he realised what he had figured out. Avis had met a man.

Sherlock didn't like the feeling of liking Avis. Of course he liked her, but he didn't like the fact that he was developing feelings for the mess of a girl who thought her name was Greek when it was actually Latin. As he realised he had kept such trivial information in his mind palace, he tried to determine it. But he couldn't.

"I said guess, not deduce, Sherlock." she sighed, laughing a little at him. "Anyway, I don't think he's for me, he's a little too mad."

"Hm, you would be a perfect match then, wouldn't you?" the words slipped out of Sherlock's mouth almost too quickly. Avis's face turned from an unnaturally happy expression to an unnaturally sad one instead.

"Sherlock!" John hissed, he tried not to take any notice of him.

"Right," she said quietly, her face crumpling up. "No, it's fine. I-I um... Nancy, come on... I'll see you two later maybe?" and before anyone had a chance to speak to her, she had gently grabbed Nancy and dragged her downstairs.

That evening there was silence from 221c Baker Street, until exactly half past six when Sherlock and John both heard plates clattering from downstairs, at first they thought it was just Avis making dinner for her and Nancy, but when the little girl hurried upstairs, hammering on their door, they realised she wasn't serving dinner at all.

John went downstairs to check on her because he thought sending Sherlock could possibly result in even more disaster. If that was even possible.

"I'M A MONSTER." she screamed, he pushed her door open to see Avis lying amongst a pile of shattered plates sobbing violently.

**Avis**

I figured that that day would count as a bad one.

John walked into my flat and I was silent. He slowly walked over to me, speaking some sort of kind sounding words that I couldn't concentrate on to hear well enough. I was crying, next I was hugging his legs repeating the words "Why am I like this" over and over again. He stroked my hair gently and hushed me.

Why had such a little thing triggered me? It was stupid, I was stupid. I certainly looked it.

"Avis, it's okay." John told me as he helped me up then walked me to the kitchen where I sat down.

"N-no it's not okay." I stuttered as I wiped my eyes.

"He didn't mean to upset you."

I nodded my head slightly.

"Yeah, I know." I said, and I did know.

He didn't mean it, just how I didn't mean to go absolutely crazy.

"I-I think I'm okay now..." I whispered, John nodded his head.

"Okay, do you want some water?"

"Best not."

John nodded his head slightly and shot me a sad smile. We hugged for a short awkward moment and then he left.

I thought I had changed, I had told myself that things would be different, but they weren't.

My hands reached up to my face and stroked my sweat covered hair backwards. I needed a shower but I didn't know what I would try to do, and somehow I didn't want to risk suicide or something.

Nancy didn't come back downstairs that entire evening, I was wondering if John had told her that I needed some space or if she didn't come back out of choice.

I painfully remembered the first time I had met the small girl. She had changed so much, I had actually thought that she was five until I knew her more.

She was so delicate before she had been taken, so fucking innocent and I hated myself for not saving her quickly so she could keep that.

At first, you probably wouldn't notice how hurt she was, she did a better job than me in hiding her pain actually. Nancy had been through so much and even if you couldn't pick up on it immediately, you would after awhile.

After a little while, I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up to the soft- nope, loud hammering on my door.

"Avis!" it was Nancy. I sighed a little, getting up off the sofa and staggering towards the door. Asia did so, I noticed the time. Twelve in the afternoon. Then I noticed my reflection ij a mirror that I had bought and put up near the door. I looked messy.

When I opened the door I was greeted by the sight of Nancy standing by a man about fourth years old, Sherlock and John standing behind the both of them.

"This is my daddy."

The man shook my hand, I was worried about my awful appearance but he was too distracted by the clutter in my flat to notice.

"Tim." he said.

"Avis." I replied.

**Right, I really hate begging buuuut, I really need some feedback if that's possible. X**


	6. Chapter 5 - Forget Forgiving

Chapter 5 -

_You say it doesn't matter,_  
_It's all in the past._  
_You never see my pain._  
_It's behind a mask._  
_You say to forgive and forget._  
_I'm going to make the day you met me,_  
_A day you'll regret._

_Get out of my mind._  
_Get out of my sight._  
_Stop begging. Don't say please._  
_You're not the best._  
_You're like all the rest._

_~ Forget Forgiving by Erica Mclean _

**Avis's POV**

I was late for work, and not just five minutes either. A whole three hours.

Nancy ran into the flat, past me and into her room that would mine again that night. She returned carrying her suitcase and smiled at me.

She hugged me tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Avis." she said, I stroked her hair awkwardly.

"I'll miss you too, Nancy." I told her.

After a very short time she left with her father who didn't say much to me other than muttering "thanks for looking after her" and even that, I thought sounded slightly sarcastic.

My phone started ringing almost the moment they had gone. The caller i.d read Killian, I picked it up and coughed awkwardly.

"Um... hey..."

"Where are you?" he asked, his voice wasn't particularly mean or harsh or anything, he was definitely strange.

"I woke up really late, something bad... happened last night. I'm sorry, I-"

"It's fine," he said, sounding a little calmer now. "Do you still want to come?"

_No,_ I thought. _No I do not want to come right now. _

"Um, y-yeah sure. On my way." I said then we both hung up.

Maybe it was just my weird mind being all stupid again, but I didn't trust him. His niceness seemed forced, everything about him looked kind of fake, from the stubble to the kindness in his eyes.

I shot Sherlock and John who were still outside my house a nervous smile.

"Work." was all I said as I grabbed my bag, forced my arms through the sleeves on my coat, pushed my old, almost broken boots onto my feet and then combed my hair. "Four hours late." I winced as I teased a tangle out, then shoved the comb into my bag. "Best be off. Bye." I said, stepping out of my flat then pulling the door shut and locking it behind me, then I walked away.

* * *

"So where do I put the shoes?" I asked Killian from halfway across the shop. He replied with a muffled "In pairs under the clothes." from where he was buried in piles of jackets, trying to sort them out. So I paired the shoes up and arranged them in size order where he told me to put them.

The day had been spent re-arranging clothes and such, nobody had come inside and neither of us left. We wanted to get it done.

I started to pick though piles of dusty newspaper clippings, finding pictures of hundreds of places taken a long time ago. History had never been my favourite subject, but I liked it.

"Which is your favourite?" Killian asked, he was now behind me, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck. I shifted uncomfortably and he moved away a bit, getting the idea. "Sorry..."

"No... i-it's fine," I said quietly as I continued shuffling through them, before finding a picture from the sixties or seventies due to the clothes they were wearing and their haircuts, a few women stood around with their children. That was it, it was that simple.

He looked a little underwhelmed as if he expected me to pull out a picture taken during the second world war then give him some lengthy poetic explanation as to why I liked it the most out of all of them.

We carried on with tidying the place up, not really talking to each other that much.

I started dusting the cobwebs away from the ceiling and he swept the dirty floor, those were pretty much the last things we needed to do.

The shop looked a lot nicer, there were no longer piles of books and comics and newspapers piled up everywhere, the clothes weren't in piles, everything was actually organised and it no longer felt as though it was suffocating you the moment you walked through the door.

I was just about to leave, I pulled my coat on and swung my bag over my shoulder, but he had to stop me, didn't he?

"Avis?" he asked, I looked up from my feet and over directed my gaze to where he was standing.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go to a pub or something later?" he asked, I winced slightly.

_No, say no._

"Sure sounds fun."

_Idiot. _

"Great, there's one literally a street away, we could meet there at... say... nine?"

"Sure." I smiled back at him happily then I left.

I got a taxi back this time, I had enough money luckily. I didn't like the feeling that people were staring at me.

* * *

My dress wasn't particularly nice for that night, I didn't really want to give Killian the wrong idea.

_It's just a friendly drink._ I told myself. _Nothing bad will happen_.

So I walked out of my flat for the second time that day, trying to avoid making much noise in fear of meeting anyone as I snuck out, feeling like a guilty teenager who was sneaking out.

I managed to leave quickly, shut the door, run away from the flats, then get into a taxi without being seen by Sherlock at all. He had probably deduced that I was going out but didn't have enough time to get downstairs before I left. Luckily.

I told the cabbie where I was going, he dropped me off and I made my way to the nearest pub that Killian had told me about.

This would be interesting.

**Right, here's the thing- I hate Avis. If I had no determination and an ounce of common sense, I would stop writing this now, but I want to finish it soon, then I'll probably delete it, I don't know. But I just feel so much raw disappointment towards her, it's unreal.**

**Not sure why I'm saying this, but I am.**

**- Jasmlne x**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N thank you for reviewing the last chapter and giving me some ideas and thoughts. It really helped.**

**This wasn't edited, sorry.**

**KaiFukugawa: I won't kill her, don't worry. :)**

**Of-Thieves-and-Liars: Thank you, yeah I know what you mean. c:**

**Guest: Aright, let me just point a few things out. Sherlock and John do not revolve their lives around Avis and vice versa. I understand where you're oming from, but in my opinion it would make Avis seem a bit too paranoid if she took Sherly and Jawn to the place and asked them to deduce Killian. I expect if that happened she would get fired almost instantly. Not everyone is out to get her. But thank you for your opinion. :)**

**SaphireBlue78: I agree. I think I'll try to see if I can make her work a bit more and if I can't then I'll just end it. :)**

**SimetraWolf05: Thank you so much for that. I know she was stupid for agreeing but I like to think she felt rather put on the spot and intimidated by Killian, I don't know. It's probably just my stupid brain looking for excuses. xD**

Chapter six-

Give me love like her,

'Cause lately I've been waking up alone,

Pain splattered teardrops on my shirt,

Told you I'd let them go,

And that I'll fight my corner,

Maybe tonight I'll call ya,

After my blood turns into alcohol,

No, I just wanna hold ya.

Give a little time to me or burn this out,

We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,

All I want is the taste that your lips allow,

My, my, my, my, oh give me love,

My, my, my, my, oh give me love,

My, my, my, my, oh give me love,

My, my, my, my, give me love.

- Give me love by Ed Sheeran.

**Avis**

My mind went blank, I could smell the alcohol and I wasn't even that close to the pub. I swallowed to refresh by increasingly dry throat.

"Avis! You're late!" I heard someone shouting but I didn't want to register it. The man repeated himself and I spun around to see Killian. His face was red and slightly sweaty, he had clearly already been drinking quite a bit.

"Hi..." I said slowly.

_Honey, what are you doing? Why the hell are you at a bar you idiot!_

"I don't know..." I whispered.

"Huh? What was that Ave?" he smiled sweetly at me.

"Oh, um, nothing..."

"It- wasn't nothing! You said something, gorgeous." he placed a sweaty hand on my lower back, I panicked and swiped it away.

The look on his face terrified me, his eyes didn't look kind anymore, his whole face portrayed pure anger. I was about to run away but he caught my hand.

"Let's go inside."

I couldn't punch him because then I ran the risk of killing him, and killing someone in public isn't a good idea. I couldn't shout, I would be ignored, people would just think I was drunk. So the minute we got into the pub, I mentally made several escape plans. Just in case.

Killian bought us drinks, he placed mine down in front of me, I just stared at it ahe downed his.

Resisting the urge to drink mine was unbelievably hard. Almost impossible, and it would just be polite, wouldn't it? He bought it after all.

So, I smiled, picked up the drink and sipped it quite quickly. After I had finished it I felt surprisingly light-headed and my sight was blurred a little. It felt great.

"Want another?" asked Killian who was already on his second drink.

"Please." the word slipped my mouth without my brain's permission.

After a small amount of time we had both managed to consume quite a few very strong drinks, and we were completely smashed- in want of a better word.

The room was spinning and had I been sober, I would have thought that Killian had slipped something into my drink, but I was drunk and I had no suspicions.

"There's this man-" I stopped mid-sentence, worried that I would throw up. "There _was _this man who hated me almost as much as I hate myself, but he's gone now so everything is fine." I rambled on.

"Oh... That's good." he smiled a little, I smiled back, then stopped myself. What was I doing? "Why don't we go back to my house?" that knocked some sense into my drunken brain.

"Um... N-no. I mean, I'm too tired. I want to go home." immediately his face turned angry.

"No, you can sleep at my house."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Maybe I want you to." he grabbed my arm in a painfully tight grip and pulled me out of the old pub.

"Get off me!" I screamed, kicking and punching him but he didn't budge. "Stop it! Help me! Help!"

Killian awkwardly dismissed my screams, telling everyone that I was just drunk but I continued screaming and hitting him. He dragged me around a corner and pushed me up against a wall where I was out of everyone's sight.

"You will do exactly as I tell you, alright?" he breathed into my ear. I trembled slightly against my will. I didn't like being obviously scared, it showed weakness that I desperately tried to hide on a daily basis.

"No," I swallowed. "Leave me alone, we're both drunk." I could hear my words slurring together.

"It wouldn't make a difference whether I was drunk or not."

I wasn't sure what happened, but I heard a key turning in a lock and then I felt my body falling to the floor, almost immediately I expected the concrete to come in contact with my body, but in stead it was carpet.

Something stank, like stale cigarettes and dampness, turned out it was the dark blue singed carpet that was the source of the stench.

Then I heard a key turning in a lock again and I panicked, pushing me body up from the floor.

The walls felt as if they were caving in on me. I looked over at Killian and saw him threading the key through the letterbox. There wasn't a way out.

Well, there could have been. But I had misjudged Killian - if that even was his name - he seemed cunning, sneaky, a bit like me. He wouldn't just leave a door open.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" I heard myself screaming, I was on my feet within next to no time, slowly dragging my bruised and not very awake body towards him.

I started punching him but my arms felt weak and useless. He shoved me back and I fell against a wall.

Why had I even trusted him? I was too nice. He was too nice.

I felt a numb pain in my chest as he hit me, so I hit him back.

"I know people." he said, frowning at me.

"Yes, and? I know people too but that doesn't make me special."

He laughed.

"No, I mean I know people who... Don't really like you, Avis. They would do anything to kill you. Really." suddenly I felt a little overwhelmed by sadness. I punched him, harder this time. I continued doing this until his bright blood started staining my pale skin.

My eyes stayed watching my blood red hands as they thumped him. I screamed, he took this opportunity to punch my face, I winced as I felt blood flowing steadily down out of my nose, or lips. I didn't know.

I didn't care.

But suddenly it dawned on me as I sobered up a tiny bit, I was stuck in a strangers house. I needed to get out.

My eyes flew to a chair by me, I went to grab it but he kicked my ribw, I groaned, doubling over and squeezing my eyes shut.

I lunged for the chair, grabbed it, swung it and knocked his head, I think he passed out then, but I was too busy looking for a way out of the house to notice.

Eventually I made my way into the living room, stumbled around with the chair in my arms fir a bit, then I tossed it through the pane of glass, it shattered.

I grabbed a few things from next to me on the tatty table, hoping that there was some money in there.

Then I legged it, snagging my skin on the shattered glass as I did so. I winced but I ran and didn't stop until I got quite far away from his house.

The street I was in looked like a bad neighbourhood, the kind of place where people stabbed eachother for fun, not because they couldn't stop themselves.

I quickly got inside a nearby red phone box.

Now, how much was it?

I tried read it butky sight was blurred so I just put all of the money I had taken inside the machine and thought.

Who could I call?

John? No, he'd be sleeping, and disappointed. Greg Lestrade? Nope, I didn't know him well enough. Dad would be upset with me as well, so I stupidly phoned a certain consulting detective.

He answered after a few rings and I didn't even give him chance to speak into the phone.

"Sh-sherlock," my voice came out sounding weak and pathetic. "It's Avis. I-I think I'm drunk and I might have killed a man, I'm not sure, I hit him over the head with a chair- made of wood, not metal or anything. And I'm in... Urm..." I looked around for a road sign saying where I was, I told him. "And I feel so pathetic because I'm scared and cold and I have no money or phone or anything..."

"So what do you want me to do about your current situation?" Sherlock asked.

"Help me," I sighed. "Because I need help and I think I might pass out. God, I'm actually asking you for help, what, I'm so pathetic."

I could almost hear his smirk. "I'm on my way."


	8. Chapter 7 - I don't love or like you

**Hey, so I hope this was okay, I wrote it to keep my mind off something going on at the moment and it worked for a while. I have been having some minor problems with my life at the minute so it's kind of difficult to update. Also this isn't proofread because I have lost all copies trolley over my life.  
**

**Sorry the lyrics are so long, I just thought they fit this chapter.**

_Chapter seven - I don't love or like you._

_I was drunk again, causing accidents._  
_Oh, you're not a friend,_  
_You're nothing._  
_I think I should be a little more confident._  
_In myself,_  
_In my skin._

_Take me, take me, home._  
_Take me, take me, home._

_'Cause I don't stand a chance in these four walls._  
_And he don't recognise me anymore._  
_Burned out flames should never re-ignite._  
_But I thought you might..._

_Take me, take me, home._  
_Take me, take me, home._

_Now he's moving close,_  
_My heart in my throat._  
_I won't say a word,_  
_But I think he knows..._  
_That I've hardly slept,_  
_Since the night he left._  
_His body always kept,_  
_Mine inside of it._  
_Keep the nightmares out,_  
_Give me mouth to mouth._  
_I can't live without ya,_  
_Take me to your house. - Home by Daughter. _

**Sherlock**

Throughout the entire taxi journey to where Avis had said she was, Sherlock was trying to convince himself that the only reason he was helping was because he had nothing to do. Cases were on a go-slow and John had gone to bed around half an hour before she phoned, so he had decided to play the violin, then she called and interrupted him.

But of course, that was just an excuse, between you and me.

After a while, the cab pulled up in a run down looking street, obviously a council estate. Sherlock would be surprised if the drunk girl even lasted a minute there. He swallowed at the thought as he got out of the taxi.

Where would she be? He knew Avis, he knew her quite well indeed, he knew what time she usually ate dinner and what days she showered, he could tell she woke up quite late every day, usually between ten AM and twelve o'clock, he knew that she went to bed late, usually after a shower, he knew what tesco shop she went to and what tea she drank. But there was more of her left in his mind palace. The brown strands of hair that seems usually wore loose and because of that, the light caught them, making them look golden. The vibrant green of her eyes through had been slowly regaining it's shine, her scars... He tried to delete everything but he couldn't, for once, Sherlock Holmes had admitted defeat.

"Avis?" he called, looking around, nothing. He repeated himself, slowly pacing through his street. Then he caught sight of an alleyway, despite how disgusting it must have been in there, it would be where Avis would hide.

He slowly jogged towards it, his long coat fanning out behind him, his blue cotton scarf also doing the same.

"Avis?" the gentleness of his voice confused both him and her, and if John had been there, he knew his mouth would be gaping wide open.

She was there, curled up on the floor, gathering her thin clothes around her surprisingly weak looking body.

He walked up to her and slipped his hands under her arms to pick her up, she looked at him, the dullness in her eyes was back.

"I can't believe it," she laughed, a sickly kind of laugh, not mean, just... Tired. "I can't believe you actually came." she was definitely drunk.

He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to say something that some man would say in one of those cheesy romantic comedies that she liked so much, but he couldn't. No words slipped out of his mouth, as usual, she didn't look to upset though.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to stumble to the wall but he kept a tight grip on her. "I'm such a mess and all I want to be is an artist but apparently that won't happen..." definitely drunk.

He still didn't say anything, just dragged her out of the alleyway.

"I understand if you are angry with me, everyone is in some way or another. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I probably interrupted something important, you were probably almost solving some case or something." she was surprisingly heavy despite looking so tiny.

"Do you really think that if I was almost finished with a case that I would help you?" he didn't mean to say it, it just slipped out of his mind where it sounded quite reasonable, but the look on her face said otherwise.

"Sherlock," she stumbled over nothing, he helped her but she batted his hands away. "You're right." he didn't expect that. "You're right, I shouldn't have phoned you, I guess I just thought I was just slightly important to you or something..." that was it, that was when any traces of light ever being in her eyes was gone. She didn't cry, that would be stupid, she just stopped walking, or stumbling rather and stood there, her own arms around her waist.

_You are._

"I'm going home-"

"Avis, the taxi-"

"Damn the taxi and you and everything that's ever caused me some sort of harm." she turned around, keeping balanced by propping herself upon the wall as she walked.

"You can't walk home-"

"I can and I will-"

"But-"

"But what?"

_But I care about you._

He was silent.

"B-but I... Urm... Care about... You."

She looked up at him.

"Oh-kay..."

"I don't love you-"

"Or even like me."

"Yes, or even particularly like you, but I do care about you, a lot." he said, she frowned a bit.

"Oh-kay." she repeated.

What was he thinking? He was just embarrassing himself, showing himself up. He couldn't show signs of feelings towards her, but he was nd it felt ridiculous. He also felt ridiculous as he walked up to her, held his hands in hers and looked down at the somewhat short woman.

For once, neither of them said anything to eachother, but Avis soon ruined that.

"I don't know whether to be offended or honoured."

"Neither." he said. Her pulse was speeding up quite a lot, her pupils were dilated.

She struggled to hook her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her small waist.

They had kissed eachother before but then it had been less serious. It was a competition on a way and while it had been alright, it didn't seem as pain filled and meaningful. Avis also didn't taste strongly of alcohol, but she did then.

As they pulled back, their faces paled slightly. Then Avis started giggling for no reason, drunk.

"I hate you, Sherlock, but at the same time I care about you so bloody much."


	9. Re-writing this rubbish! :D

Hey guys, I'm sorry that this isn't a chapter but I guess it could be better? :3

I've decided to re-write The Detective and The Murderer and this story as well if I decide to continue with the sequel.

I'm not sure when I'll start re-writing it, maybe sometime before or after Christmas. Something like that.

So yeah, I hope that once I've re-written it, I'll feel more happy, if I don't then I guess I'll just lock it away down in a dungeon or somehing and never let it out.

That's all for now.

Jasmine x


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